


Flashback

by ausmac



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-07
Updated: 2011-05-07
Packaged: 2017-10-19 03:23:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausmac/pseuds/ausmac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's all about time and space and two people bound up in a circle of fate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flashback

"Excuse me, are you Mister Hunt?"

The voice was so shocking, unmistakable, and equally impossible. He turned and looked and saw the familiar features. His heart thudded, stuttered, surged, an almost painful recognition. He was surprised he didn't fall over on the spot. _Bloody hell…!_

"That's me. And you're Sam Tyler."

The young man's head tilted to one side. "How did you…have we met?"

"Oh, you could say that. Or maybe not, depending on how you look at it."

Confusion made his eyebrows twitch together into a frown. "I'm sorry, I don't understand. I was told you were one of the tutors, but if I'm wrong --"

"No, you're not wrong, Mister Tyler." He handed over a folder of notes without thinking. "That's your class and book list. Report to the main office for your timetable and accommodation roster." He took a deep breath, not wanting the meeting to end and knowing it had to. "Welcome to the Academy. I'm sure you'll do well."

The young student police officer took the folder, still obviously puzzled but putting it down to some strange process of induction that would doubtless become clear in time, and left.

Gene Hunt watched Tyler walk away, then leaned back against the wall on suddenly weak legs. He turned to look into the window behind him and wondered; it wasn't the face of a man who'd met the impossible. He ran a shaking hand over his bearded chin, seeing again the silver amongst the reddish blonde beard, around the temples of the thinning hair. It was the last year of his work at the Academy; forced retirement was only months away. He'd fought to stay on the Force for years past the normal retirement age because the idea of being alone and useless had been soul-destroying. It looked like there'd been another reason, as though the Universe had planned for him to be where he was, when he was, to complete an unexpected circle.

Gene left the Academy and dropped in to a favorite tea shop near home. Sitting in a quiet corner with a cuppa on the table in front of him, he remembered another time, another life…

 _…flash….._

He sits in the corner nursing the untouched glass of scotch, looks down into the golden liquor, aware of the voices but in an unfocused way. It's background noise, sound that doesn't rate as important. He knows they're watching him, short glances to check on him. Watching him keep it together. Probably thinking, great big bad Gene Hunt, never knocked about by anything. The strong man. The tough man.

He'd taken the glass automatically but he doesn't want to drink it. If he drinks it, he'll drink another one, and another and more until he's pissed and he doesn't know what he'd do or say if he got drunk. Best not to get drunk tonight. Not until he's alone.

Alone.

He thinks, when will I forget how his voice sounds? Because if he tries, he can recall it, as clear as day.

 _…flash….._

"Oh god yes…"

Sam was wrapped around Gene, arms around his neck, legs around his waist, heels thrusting into the floor as he mounted Gene's cock. With each rise and fall of his body his head went back, mouth gasping open, sucking in air to speak, and Gene was reminded how talky a fella he was. Gene could barely string two syllables together when his cock was buried tight up into Tyler's arse. It took all his concentration not to sob like a girl.

"That's…like…perfect, reminds me..when I..was a kid.."

Which couldn't be ignored, no matter how you were trying for the taciturn Eastwood-approach. "Too kinky for me, that."

"No, meant…just feels … complete, you know."

He didn't, but then he rarely understood Sam 'metaphor' Tyler. He just took it that Sam was happy, and that made him happy. Happiness was a state generally reserved for after ManCity game wins, bringing down some deserving villain or getting behind the wheel of the Ford. Add to the list fucking Sam Tyler till he cried your name out in suitable tones of awe and gratitude.

Or just being with him, whether it was to kiss or hold, sleep beside or argue with, or just watch and listen to the barmy, irritating, amazing nutter. Someone who made you choke back on traitorous words of endearment which were as surprising as they were real. Better not to say it. Better just to listen to him babble as he shuddered against you in the night…

 _…flash….._

It was a call of some nutter taking a bunch of kids on a bus with a bomb, ranting about who knew what and making impossible demands. The lunatic had put the bus in the middle of the old bridge across the Irwell and nobody knew what to do about it. They'd figured, though, that by the time anyone arrived who might know, the bus and the children on it would probably be a flaming wreck.

Tyler had finally moved, as Gene had somehow known he would. "I'll go talk to him," he said with that cocky, assured air. "He probably doesn't even have a bomb, it'll be all bluff and bother, you watch."

A cold, anxious pain had flowered in Gene's gut. "You said that once before, remember? And what happened then? Ray nearly got smashed. Wait for the bomb boys."

Sam had laughed. "Did DCI Hunt just suggest we follow procedure?"

"Maybe this time we do the smart thing." He reached out, rested a hand on Sam's arm. "I got a bad feeling about this one, Sam."

 _…flash….._

A hand on his arm, quickly removed.

"Guv, you should go home."

Gene looks up, and naturally it's Annie, because he thinks she might know on some level that they'd been more than sheriff and deputy. Whatever she guessed, her behavior never faltered. He likes her for that, and for being Sam's friend.

"I will. Shortly. Need the company for now."

She nods, bites her lip, and turns back to chat to Chris, who's trying hard not to be worried. He thinks, Chris and Annie, a mismatch if ever he'd seen one. He suspects who'll be the guv out of those two. Survival of the smartest.

But Sam'd been smart, so clever, and in the end it hadn't mattered, had it.

 _…flash….._

  
Feeling restless, Gene wandered through the centre of the city, dodging the mid-morning crowds. Once, he'd known the city like the back of his hand but it had changed so much. All glass and fancy boutiques and crazy drivers in their ugly foreign cars, everyone in a hurry to get somewhere. And then, as he stood on a corner at a pedestrian crossing waiting for the lights to change, he couldn’t remember where he was. He was totally lost.

Gene clutched the metal pole of the crossing light, fighting for memory, cursing his ratty brain. It was happening more frequently, those horrible moments of blankness when he found himself somewhere strange that he knew he should recognise and couldn't. Too many years of stress, of death and pain, too much booze, not enough sleep.

Probably had some fancy name, dementia or alzeehimers or something, but he refused to seek medical help. What would they do but put him away in a nursing home where he'd play bingo with a bunch of old brainless geezers and slowly rot. Came the day he couldn't cope, it would be in front of a truck for him, somewhere he probably wouldn't recognise.

Again, the voice smashed into his thoughts. "You okay, sir?"

He turned, staring as the world suddenly righted itself, as if centering on this special moment of reality. "Mister Tyler again. Yes, I'm just honkey dory, why do you ask?"

"Sorry, you looked a bit white about the gills." Tyler was standing there in civvy clothes, clutching some shopping bags, his hair longer, his young, open face showing all the emotions, just like it always had, always would. "You sure you don't need a hand?"

"No, I'm --"

And then the world exploded all around them in a sound so big it blotted out every other sound for a few seconds.

Gene was flung backwards against the pole of the crossing light, and Tyler was pushed against himself by the same expanding shock wave. Sound caught up with them a breath or two later; shattering glass, smashing concrete and metal, the shrieking of vehicle brakes, the screams of people.

On the ground with Tyler on top of him, Gene was facing upwards and saw the shop awning above them tear away from the building. It twisted in the plume of expanding flame like a demented leaf and, as time slowed as it often did at such moments, Gene realised it would hit them both as it landed.

 _No, not again, not this time!_

Using strength he didn't know he had at that moment, Gene grabbed Sam and tossed him overarm and out into the road. The awning fell and struck Gene, a monstrous weight that drove air from his chest, a shattering weight that was mortally painless. Twisted sideways by the force of the blow he saw Sam rolling across the road, undamaged, shouting his name. But he couldn't speak, couldn't breath, could only see the door in front of him, and he opened it and walked through...

 _…flash…..flash….._

…and took the cigarette from his mouth, eyes narrowing at the sight of the slender man in front of him, a sarcastic look twisting his mouth into a grimace of distaste. The brown eyes raked him up and down, and the tone was snide.

"Okay, alright, surprise me. What year is it supposed to be?"

Gene reached forward, grabbed handfuls of leather jacket and shirt, and pulled his new DI into his office.

"A word in yer shell-like, pal….."


End file.
